


This is Not a Date

by grey2510



Series: Tumblr Prompts and Requests (SPN) [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Dean and Cas are not in this fic), Developing Relationship, F/M, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Implied past Demon!Dean/Crowley, Post-Episode: s12e08 LOTUS, Pre-Relationship, Sign Language, Trapped In Elevator, feeding the tropes because the tropes are hungry, mild PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8916898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510
Summary: Sam and Eileen get trapped in an elevator during a hunt. Stuck with nothing to do, and with some hold-over anxiety thanks to a government-sponsored vacation to a cell, Sam takes the opportunity to get to know the girl he wishes he'd kept in contact with since they met a year ago.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr prompt (3 of them! Plus an ask for Saileen): 8. “Wanna bet?”, 17. “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…", 45. “Tell me a secret.” -- requested by flyingfish1 on Tumblr
> 
> Also, this was written post-12x08/pre-12x09, but takes place (technically) post-12x09. There's references to what we see in the trailer for that episode, but I'm sure some of this will be Jossed once the episode airs.

They’re somewhere between the 14th and 15th floors when the lights start to flicker. Normally, Sam would guess something ghostly or demonic, but this isn’t a ghost hunting trip. No, he and Eileen are just supposed to be doing recon and research at the victim’s office.

“Storm?” Eileen says ruefully, eyeing the lights.

Sam nods. He and Eileen had taken this job because her truck could handle the snow better than the Impala (which Dean had been surprisingly not defensive about); they’d dropped Dean off at the police station before carrying on.

The lights flicker once more and then the elevator shudders to a halt. The lights short out for good, leaving only dull orange emergency lights along the top of the walls.

“Shit,” Sam mutters, immediately pulling his phone out of his pocket. No cell service. Perfect. He turns to Eileen, hoping she can make out his lip movements in the poor lighting. He waves his phone a little, then points at her phone, half-miming the question. “Any service on yours?”

Eileen frowns down at her own phone, then shakes her head apologetically. “You’ll have to try the emergency button.”

Right, because she wouldn’t be able to tell if anyone answered. He’s suddenly thankful he has his FBI badge with him in case whoever busts them out has any questions about why they’re at this building in the middle of the night. Stepping forward, Sam jabs the red button a few times. After a minute, a staticky female voice chirrups through.

“Hello? This is Emergency Services.”

“Uh, yeah, hi. We’re stuck in an elevator at 281 Water Street.”

“Is anyone injured or in danger?”

“No.”

“How many people are there?”

“Just two of us.”

“Right, well, we’ve got a lot of problems around the city right now. A few power lines are down. Hopefully once we fix the power, you’ll be all set. Do you have lights?”

“Some. Just the emergency ones.”

“Ok. Well, if the regular lights come back on, but the elevator doesn’t move, call us again and we’ll send someone to help you. But I’m afraid you’re stuck for the time being.”

“Right. Great. Uh, thanks,” Sam finishes, trying not to sound frustrated. It’s not this poor woman’s fault they’re stuck, and he’s sure she’s probably dealing with a lot of nasty calls tonight.

“I'm sorry, sir, I have to take another call. But, again, if there’s a further issue and you need assistance, please call.”

“We will.”

The call drops out and Sam turns back to Eileen, who looks at him with a mix of hope and resignation.

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while,” he shrugs with as much apology as he can muster.

“Figured as much.” She takes a step back, then sinks down to the floor, crossing her ankles out in front of her. Looking up, she tells him, “You’re gonna give me a crink in my neck if you stay up there.”

With a half-smile, Sam takes a seat opposite her, stretching out his own legs next to hers. It’s a pretty small elevator: his boots are a little more than halfway across the space.

“I almost miss the banshee,” Eileen remarks wryly.

“Heh, yeah.”

They fall silent and Sam is suddenly aware of everything he can hear—the slight creaking of the cables when one of them shifts their weight, Eileen’s breathing, the rustle of his jeans against the scratchy carpet—and the fact that the walls are so close. He closes his eyes. He’s never been claustrophobic, not really, and elevators haven’t bothered him until now, but now that he’s trapped and not moving and there’s nowhere to go and—

“Sam?” A hand rests tentatively on his ankle and his eyes snap open. Eileen is staring at him, her brow wrinkled in concern. “Are you ok?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He clears his throat before inhaling deeply, trying to slow his breathing rate.

“Oh yeah, sure, you seem great,” Eileen deadpans, but then her features soften. “Too soon after the cell?”

“Something like that,” Sam admits, grateful he doesn’t have to explain, having already told her what had happened during their ‘so what have you been up to this past year?’ conversation when they started this hunt.

Six weeks in a government holding facility—the kind that doesn’t exist, not officially—with nothing but the same grey walls to stare at day after day... It wasn't the worst thing he’s ever been through, but he and Dean have both seemed to crave open spaces of late. Even the Bunker seems too confining: Dean will often go for long drives, while Sam has found himself braving even the cold winds over the Kansas flats to walk or jog.

“Anything I can do?” Eileen asks.

“Just, um, talk to me.” Anything to remind him that he’s not the only one in this box.

“About anything?”

“Yeah. Or, I dunno, tell me something I don’t know.”

Eileen’s lips quirk up in an amused grin. “What, like a secret?”

Sam gives a chuckle. “Sure, I guess. Tell me a secret.”

She thinks for a minute, then says, “Dean has a girlfriend.”

“What?” Sam sits up. “How would you know? No, he doesn’t—"

“I read his lips when he was talking on the phone.” She gives a half-apologetic, half-impish shrug. “Definitely talking to a girl.”

Sam furrows his brow. The only ‘girl’ he can think of that Dean would be talking to is their mom and yeah, that’s just creepy, but he can see why Eileen might get confused if she saw Dean go all secretive and then go talk to someone named ‘Mary.’

“No, no, that’s not his girlfriend. Mary’s our _mom_ ,” Sam tries to explain.

Now it’s Eileen’s turn to look confused. “I thought your mom...?”

“Was. Now she’s back. Long story.”

“Oh.” Thankfully, Eileen doesn’t press the matter. “But he wasn’t talking to a ‘Mary.’ He said the name ‘Cas’ or something like that.”

Sam’s pretty sure his eyes are bugging out of his head, then he starts laughing. Oh, he is going to give Dean _so_ much shit for this. Hey, at least for once, _he’s_ not the one mistakenly paired up with Dean. And don’t even get him started on the ‘profound bond’ jokes he’s gonna make...

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, Cas isn’t a girl. Cas is a ‘he’, and—"

Eileen waves a hand, barely batting an eye. “Fine. Dean’s got a boyfriend.”

“They’re just friends,” Sam says.

“Wanna bet?”

She sounds so confident that Sam hesitates in his response. “Um...no?”

She can’t be right. Dean’s not...

...is he?

And, well, who knows about Cas...

Sure, Dean and Cas are weirdly close, and it’s not like no one’s ever made a crack about the two of them before (Balthazar and Crowley had definitely made a few...), and yeah, Dean was a total wreck last year when Casifer was walking around, and he’d been pissy as hell when Cas had run off with Crowley to hunt Lucifer down—it’s almost like he’d been jealous or something (of Crowley? And wow is Crowley and Dean a messed up thing that Sam tries not to think about much, especially after their ‘summer of love’), and...

Oh.

OH.

“Toldja,” Eileen chimes in, smugly, breaking through Sam’s mental calisthenics and bringing him back to the present.

“Fine,” he concedes. “You didn’t really answer the question, though,” he adds, mostly to get off the topic of his brother and arguably his best friend.

“What do you mean?”

“The secret. You told one of Dean’s, not yours.”

“Hey, fair’s fair: you never said it had to be one of mine. Plus, what do I get out of this?” There’s a playful challenge to her voice that makes Sam grin and push away the constantly creeping-in reminders that they’re still in this goddamn elevator.

“Alright, I’ll go first.” He pauses for a moment, trying to think of a secret to tell. It’s not that he doesn’t have plenty, but he has very few that aren’t utterly horrifying and/or have to do with something Apocalyptic. “Ok, uh, when I was about twelve or thirteen, I went through a magic phase. Not like, real magic. You know, illusions and sleight of hand.”

A smile graces her features, lighting up her face in such a way that Sam can’t help but return the grin. He’d pretty much expected her to laugh at him, but instead, she says, “Really? Me, too! Lillian—the one who raised me—thought it was dumb, until she saw how good I got at poker.”

“You mean cheating.”

Eileen just raises a coy eyebrow. “Got to be a good pickpocket, too.”

Sam laughs. “Never quite got good at that. I’m a big guy—people notice pretty quick if I get too close.”

“People never notice me,” Eileen replies, with just an undercurrent of bitterness.

“I did,” Sam says, almost shyly. She doesn’t respond except to smile softly. “Anyway...it’s your turn now.”

Eileen rolls her eyes good-naturedly, then says, “Uh, how about this? Not a secret, but pretty embarrassing. When I was fifteen, I got food poisoning on a first date. Nearly puked on his shoes.”

“Oh man, that sucks.”

“No kidding.”

“Well, this wasn’t a date exactly, but I once signed to a girl I just met ‘F you’ instead of ‘thank you,’” Sam admits.

He’s relieved when Eileen laughs at the memory. “It was nice that you tried, though.”

“Yeah. I’ve, uh," he says, running a hand through his hair, “I’ve been practicing ASL a little since then.”

“Really?”

He nods, then finger-spells E-I-L-E-E-N and S-A-M and finally “How are you?”

Without missing a beat, she replies, “I’m good. And you?”

“Ok.” He lifts a shoulder. “I know a little more, but not much.”

It doesn’t matter how little he knows: Eileen is so happy she’s practically glowing from across the elevator.

“For me?” she asks, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Was hoping to run into you again. I’m sorry I don’t know a lot. It’s hard to learn with no one to practice with. I try a little here and there with videos and stuff.”

Eileen nods in understanding. “It’s ok. I actually didn’t know how to sign fluently until I was eight or nine. Lillian learned some when I was a toddler and taught me what she knew, but we moved around a lot when I was a kid—not every school has good programs and supports. Got by on lip reading.”

“Huh,” Sam says, not having really considered what it must have been like to be a hunter’s kid moving around schools while _deaf_. And he'd thought it was hard keeping his grades up when he could hear everyone around him... “That’s...wow. That's really impressive. I dunno if I could've managed that.”

“You do what you have to.”

The main lights flick on for a second, and they both look up hopefully. But nothing else happens after that, and Sam’s about halfway through a sigh when the lights turn on completely and the elevator thunks lightly once on its cables, then starts moving up again.

“Oh thank god,” Eileen exhales, and Sam echoes the sentiment.

He’s already breathing easier again, and he takes a huge breath when the doors open on the 16th floor. “We’re taking the stairs down when we leave,” he says to her as they step out into a cubicle-walled hallway.

“Agreed.”

They’re about to go off to the right, in the direction of the victim’s desk, but Eileen stops Sam. “So, you say you’ve been practicing..." she hedges. “Do you know this one?”

Slowly, and probably in a more exaggerated way than she normally would with a fluent signer, Eileen makes a series of movements with her hands.

“Do I want to get dinner?” Sam interprets, hoping he didn’t mess up the translation because he really wants to be right. Eileen smiles and nods. “Like a date?”

“Yeah, I’d rather not count getting stuck in an elevator as our first date.”

“What about second? We did kill a banshee together.”

“Unless you’re counting that as a double date with Dean and Mildred..." she teases. “And, oh, I just realized: Mildred’s going to be really disappointed Dean’s off the market.”

Sam chuckles. “I’m not worried about Mildred. I’m sure she’s moved on.”

“You’re probably right. Anyway, I think you and I can do a little better than a hunt for a date.”

“I think so,” Sam happily agrees, and they resume their recon and research mission, although each with a certain lightness to their step.  

Maybe this isn’t a date, but it’s turned out pretty well anyway, if Sam does say so himself.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> Check out my other works (sorted by series for easier navigation):  
> [Grey's works](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/series)  
> Come visit me on Tumblr! @[grey2510](https://grey2510.tumblr.com/)


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